Radioactive
by Palex
Summary: Lone Wanderer and Saint of the Wastes, Excella, didn't expect to find Butch DeLoria with a collar around his neck. In turn, Butch didn't expect to find himself in her debt for returning his freedom. Neither of them expected to embark on journeys through the wastes together.


Excella had a thing for sunbathing.

Ever since she'd left the Vault, that thing called the sun fascinated her. Currently, she was lounging atop a pile of dead raiders, enjoying the heated rays of warmth while Dogmeat scavenged nearby. Her pink eyes squinted at the harsh brightness of the sun. It'd been two weeks since she'd returned...

Sitting up from the pile of carcasses, Excella blew out an angry breath. There was no reason to be thinking about it. Or, him, for that matter. Vault 101 was a place of the past. A sudden bark caught her attention, drawing her out from her thoughts. Dogmeat came bounding back, something caught in his maw. The Lone Wanderer slid down the bumpy slope of her not-so-cushioned perch.

"What is it, boy?"

The canine barked again, edgily jumping up on his back legs. Eyes narrowed, Excella dropped down to her haunches, stroking the coarse fur atop the hound's head. There was something in his mouth, some sort of fabric. Dogmeat obliged his master by dropping the slightly slobbery piece of leather into her hand, panting wildly with his tongue hanging from his mouth.

Excella ran the pad of her thumb over the tough leather, sand gritting against the ridges of her fingerprint. She brought the leather to her nose, deeply inhaling. Clean water, shaving cream, and... cologne? All three scents were foreign to the Capital Wasteland, but to her they were oddly familiar. Brow furrowed, Excella turned the leather scrap over in her hand.

There it was.

A dark blue piece of material stared back up at her, seeming to taunt her tawny eyes. Goddamn it. Grunting, 101 stood to her full height— which was still rather low to the ground— and weighed the clips of ammo slung around her chest. She was running low, about only two hundred rounds left strapped to her body. Perhaps she'd stop by Meresti and grab a few dozen more 5.56mms before she set out, but...

No. She had plenty of other weapons in case she ran into danger. Scratching Dogmeat behind the ear, Excella held the scrap down to his nose.

"Follow this trail, boy. We've got a little bastard to find."

* * *

Butch DeLoria did not take orders from anyone. Not even the fucking Overseer could cage the Serpent King, yet...

Here he was, bloodied with some explosive collar around his neck and thrown into a slave pen. This was so embarrassing and very uncool. The moment he'd stepped foot out of the Vault and decided to go about a little adventure of his own, kick a little ass, take a couple names, he'd been duped by some pretty lady. Sure, Butch was a sucker for ladies with a nice face and good assets, but now he began to question it all.

As soon as he figured a way out of this hell he was swearing off women. That little bitch was going to get her ass handed to her once he was out, too. No one messed with a Tunnel Snake. Butch grumbled to himself, angrily tossing a rock through the fence towards a slaver. The man eyed him warily, but said nothing.

Although his throat was a bit drier than usual, Butch felt fine. Except that there was a tear in his jacket. He was still seething over the fact that someone had the audacity to tear his priceless jacket like some cheap towel. So much for redheads. Never again would he touch the sly creatures.

Turning over, Butch stared out at the gate he'd been marched through earlier that morning. He sighed, his futile attempts to try and find a comfortable position to lounge in impossible with that fucking collar latched so tightly over his throat. Finally, after minutes of repositioning and shuffling, he managed to prop himself against the fence and kicked his legs out in front, head lolling back against the metal wire.

"Don't doze off, pretty boy."

A clawed hand caught the back of Butch's long dark locks, tugging them painfully hard through the slave pen. The Tunnel Snake hissed, following the hand as far as he could to alleviate the pain to no avail. He struggled against the dirty hand of his captor, but she in turn pulled harder on his thick hair. No one pulled Butch DeLoria's hair.

"Get th' fuck off, you dirty fuckin' slut!"

She clucked her tongue. The dirty hand pulled harder through the fence.

"Now, now, darling. You don't want me to throw you in the Box, now do you?"

"I'm gonna fuckin' kill your pathetic ass when I bust outta this shit hole!"

She chuckled menacingly.

"Too bad I can't have you for myself. I'd just love," her sticky sweet breath assaulted his ear, "to leave you chained to my bed all day and night and break that resolve you've got. Sex slaves like you are the absolute best."

Butch snorted, tearing away from the woman and standing up. He indignantly shook the dust from his jacket and sneered at the freckled redhead behind the wire. Butch vaguely thought he'd seen that predatory gleam somewhere else besides those ugly green eyes boring into his. But, in her tawny eyes, it burned with a greater intensity.

Wasn't she deemed some type of savior or something? Shouldn't she be sweeping in any moment to conveniently wipe the floor with these asshats so he could waltz out? Butch gnawed the inside of his cheek contemplatively. It'd be easy for him to send out a distress beacon from his Pip-Boy, but that was so lame. Tunnel Snakes didn't rely on good for nothing daddy's girls to save him, especially that one.

It had been about two weeks since the poindexter had rolled back into the Vault like nothing ever had ever happened. Butch had wanted nothing more to thrash her into oblivion, but he still owed her something. After all, she did rescue his mom whilst making her escape from the Vault in the first place. She'd probably already thrown away his original Tunnel Snakes jacket, which made him grit his teeth in irritation.

That fuckin' nosebleed, he thought agitatedly. When she came back to the Vault at her little girlfriend's beck and call, she hadn't even worn the leather jacket. Not that he expected her to, but it would've been nice to know she hadn't tossed the priceless garment in some trash heap in the Wastes. No, she'd worn some fancy white general's coat, as she'd call it.

Somewhere in the background, there was a muffled commotion as someone was let through the gates, and Butch hoped from the bottom of his heart it wouldn't be some sleaze bag trying to buy him. Word that the irresistible Serpent King had been captured was probably spread all over the Wastes by now, and people would be flocking to Paradise Falls in droves to place bids on him. His cerulean eyes wandered over and— oh, fuck.

Speak of the devil, Butch-man, and she shall appear, he thought wryly. Although, she looked a lot different than before. That snobby white general's coat had been abandoned in favor of what appeared to be a Merc Veteran outfit. Blood spattered the front of the ensemble, which meant that the Capital Wasteland's resident poindexter had either performed surgery, or killed a shit ton of people. Butch doubted the faint hearted nosebleed could do such gruesome thing as the latter, and assumed it was the former.

At first, she didn't notice him. She walked casually through the slaver compound, throwing her hand up in acknowledgment and the occasional head nod as people greeted her. That maroon colored hair was pulled up into a tight ponytail near the top of her skull, the long locks spilling over her shoulder. As his eyes shamelessly slid down her figure, just like on any other women, he noticed only then the… thing beside her.

What had Excella called it? A dog, or something? That sounded about right. The massive mutt was glued to her side, lips curled back in a snarl if any of the male slavers got too close. Butch couldn't help but snort at the dog. None of the lowly guys here would go for someone like Excella, who preferred brain over brawn. And from the looks of it, there was a lot of brawn here and not a lot of brain.

The maroon haired martyr's eyes scanned the dwindling number of slaves that were currently locked in the pens. She winced at the occupied sign on the Box. God bless the poor soul trapped in there right now. There were more slavers than usual in Paradise Falls for some odd reason, which worried Excella. She didn't do dealings with the slavers, but she did capture one Susan Lancaster for them just once. She refused to capture anyone else after that, and no one could complain.

A particular redhead caught her eye, who had a dripping lecherous expression as she eyed Excella. The look the redhead was giving was even dirtier to the one Nova gave to the occasional attractive stranger that rolled through Megaton. The scientist didn't like having such a gaze on her, and the boldness of the woman to ogle so openly made her uncomfortable.

In an instant, the sly redhead had sidled up next to Excella, dismissing the growls of the beast at her side. An arm wound around her waist, pulling her slender frame against the leaner one of the red headed woman. Numerous bells and whistles sounded, but that was a generous understatement. Emergency sirens were telling Excella to get that slaver off her now.

"I don't think I've ever seen a pretty girl like you around here." That sticky sweet breath assaulted her perceptive senses. "What brings you to such a place, baby?"

Excella tried in vain to walk ahead of the woman and shake her off, but the persistent woman kept a firm arm around Excella's waist and kept up. Damn those short legs God had given her.

"That's very flattering, but I've come to pay a visit to Eulogy."

"My, my! A little thing like you going to see the boss?" The redhead stooped lower, decreasing the proximity even more than it already was. "Surely, a sweet one like you must be his lover."

"Oh— no! Not at all! I did business with Eulogy for a short time a while back, and he insists on keeping in touch." Excella didn't spill the bit of info about how she planned on burning the cursed Paradise Falls to the ground someday very soon and taking Eulogy's suit as a war prize. The redhead hummed, only half listening to the young girl at her side.

"What's your name, missy?"

It might not have been wise to tell the slaver her name, but there would be no other way to shake her off.

"I go by Excella." She flashed a winning smile at the lean woman, dazzling her for a moment before she politely asked her name in turn. The redhead smirked and tightened her grip on the brunette's waist.

"Lana Chase. It's a pleasure to meet you, Excella."

The doctor's blood ran cold.

"Chase? Your mother wouldn't happen to be…?"

"The legendary Penelope Chase?" Her ego flared. "Grandmother actually, doll."

Excella managed a nod as she tried not to focus on the almost painful grip the other woman had on her. Tawny eyes searched for a distraction anywhere, falling on the slave pen when— what the hell?! Leaning on the chain link fence of the slave pen was a familiar black leather jacket. Broad shouldered and meticulously styled hair, just as she remembered.

Lana looked quizzically down at Excella when she felt the shorter female stop, and followed her gaze to the pen. A devious smile claimed her overtly plumped red lips. Of course a girl like the one at her side would look out for a gorgeous man like that. He was a diamond in the rough, so to speak, much like the dainty brunette she held close.

"Something catch your eye?"

The brunette only murmured something indecipherable when she effectively pulled away from Lana, approaching the pen. Excella tried not to run to the pen. Every fiber of her being was telling her to go to Butch, but not to save him. Not yet, or maybe not at all. What she needed to do was mock that bastard for simply being the bastard he was.

Cerulean eyes darted up momentarily, assuming another slaver was coming to bother him, and he looked back down at his scuffed boots. His head jerked up as he met tawny eyes that said everything her lips wouldn't. Butch didn't enjoy the condescending tone—or, whatever— of the particular gaze. In a second, the redhead was behind Excella, her long arms resting on either side of the Vaultie's hips.

"Where did you find him?"

"This one? Oh, I found this prime specimen just outside Rivet City. He's quite the charmer."

"Tryin' to pitch a sale, mother fucker?"

Excella stifled a snicker, which amused Butch to some degree. Lana narrowed her eyes dangerously at the Tunnel Snake, commanding him to bite his tongue, but Tunnel Snakes didn't take orders from nobody.

"Charmer, right. How much would you give him to me for?"

No. Wait, wait. She wasn't… she wasn't going to bust him out of here and go out guns blazing? Excella, she was… going to buy him?

"Two thousand, as is."

"Are you kidding me, Lana? He's got an awful mouth on him, and I can tell by that cut on his lip you had to beat him down to make him submiss in the slightest to get the collar around his neck and in this pen. I don't have strength on my side, Lana. A man like him, so brash and rough around the edges, is bound to give me trouble."

Muddy green eyes narrowed. "What would propose then, darling?"

"Seven-fifty."

Lana scoffed.

"In your dreams, doll face! The next fetishist for man whores to roll through here won't pay any less than three thousand for his ass. Two thousands is a great deal!"

Excella mechanically pried the arms off her torso, praying the other woman wouldn't keep touching her. She walked backwards towards Eulogy's pad, hands stuffed in her pockets. Lana didn't like that smirk on her pursed little pink lips.

"Maybe I'll have a chat with Eulogy. I've been looking into his girl Clover for a while now, and he's already expressed he'd just love to lend her to me for a while. Who knows, maybe I'll let him know that his dear friend Excella is being overcharged for an unbroken slave."

Butch watched with wide eyes as the not-so-much poindexter casually sauntered towards the building nearby. Not even the Serpent King himself could make such a livid expression come across his captor's features like that nosebleed did. He knew she had spunk, but not that much spunk. He'd have to give her a little credit when she got him out of here.

In a flash the redhead was blocking the door to Eulogy's. Excella smoldered up at her through her long dark lashes, lips still pursed in a smirk. Lana glowered down at her, but knew she couldn't stop the shorter girl from ratting her out to Eulogy unless the proud Chase woman caved to her demands. Lana didn't haggle, like the rest of these low class slavers, but now it didn't look like she didn't have a choice.

"Alright, Excella. I'll let you take the troublemaker off my hands for seven-fifty. We can just tally the rest off into a favor," she drawled, eyes narrowing. "you can do to me later."

Excella did her best not to gulp, which paid off when Lana leaned away and sauntered over to the pen. Butch strode out of the pen, smirking triumphantly at the redhead, who glowered at him. Excella was standing in front of the pen again, and she beckoned the DeLoria over. He internally swore as he stalked towards the kid he menaced in their early youth.

A heavy sack of caps was exchanged between the two women, but weren't counted. Lana knew the feel of seven hundred and fifty caps like the back of her hand. She watched carefully as the brunette gripped her new whore by the shoulder, pulling him down to whisper in his ear. She couldn't catch what the younger girl was saying, but whatever it did made the man stand straight up and clench his jaw.

"Don't come crying to me when this one breaks your heart, baby."

Tinkling laughter from a maroon haired owner.

"No need to worry. I have…" Her tawny eyes darkened with predatory mirth as they bore into cerulean, which shrank back in the slightest. "other methods of keeping my slaves in check besides a collar."

Parting pleasantries were exchanged, and Lana watched as the short Excella and her much taller slave walked side by side towards the gate. She couldn't help but feeling like the two knew each other. They kept in step like they were old friends going for a stroll in the park. Green eyes narrowed. There was something definitely behind those two, but she couldn't put her finger on it.

Lana Chase didn't like it when she was duped.


End file.
